


Sore Loser

by owlaholic68



Series: Fallout NSFW [7]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 2
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn Star Chosen One, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sensory Deprivation, Size Kink, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 16:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14024151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: Not content (or very content) with losing to Francis in arm-wrestling before, the Chosen One goes back for another try. The same stakes: If he loses, he’s Francis’ for the night.





	Sore Loser

 

Francis doesn’t look surprised to see Leonard, but Phil does. The old ghoul bartender stops polishing his cracked glasses, raising his eyebrows when Leonard walks in. On a day like today, Broken Hills doesn't get many visitors, and it's rare to see anyone in the bar.

“Hey, Phil. Hey, Francis.” He plops his bag down on the worn wooden floor and takes the seat across from Francis. He leans back in the chair, legs lazily spread, his poor excuse for a vault suit tattered, hanging off his shoulders and showing off his tanned chest, a long scar extending from his collarbone to his ribcage.

“Didn’t know you were still alive, pal,” Francis admits. He’s nursing a drink, some moonshine that came from somewhere. Francis doesn’t care, as long as it’s drinkable. “Thought a weakling like you woulda gotten eaten up and spit back out by the wasteland a long time ago.”

Leonard shrugs, running one hand through his hair, tilting his head back, his throat bobbing as he yawns. “You know, I’ve been around the block a few times. Had Marcus runnin’ with me for a bit, that worked out swell. And look at me,” he flexes, showing off mediocrely large muscles. “I’m not as weak as I look, Francis.”

He is not impressed. “Then how’d I beat you so fast at arm-wrestling?”

“Ha!” Leonard’s laugh is loud and sudden, his eyes sinking to half-shut. “Because I let you win, you big dummy. Really, Francis, I thought you were smart.” He throws an arm across his forehead. “Oh, I’m so _weak_ , I just can’t beat a big strong mutant like you! Oh, whatever shall I do? I guess I’ll just have to go to bed with you! Oh no, I definitely didn’t agree to that when we clearly hashed out our terms, oh no, certainly didn’t explicitly give you my consent, no sir!”

Phil is slowly edging further behind the bar, not expecting the conversation to turn like this. If anyone else had been in the bar, they would have quietly slipped out the back door at this point.

“Oh.”

Leonard enjoys the surprise on Francis’ face, grinning wide. “Come on, Francis, it was a great night! Oh, you don’t mind if I, well you see, Francie, I’m an actor in New Reno, and the company I work for is always in need of fresh plots, and I was _mighty_ inspired by our splendid night together, so there _might_ be a film adaptation…”

Francis groans and puts his head in his hands. This human, this Leonard, was unexpected: he looked lithe and weak, and he had certainly played up that part of him, the innocent weak side. Francis would have never pegged him for _that_ type of man, the one who would star in the types of films they make in New Reno.

Then again, nobody had ever taken him up on the _particular_ deal he’d offered Leonard a few weeks ago: win and get a new weapon, or lose and go back to Francis’ house for the night.

“So…” Leonard holds out his hand. “Want to arm-wrestle me again, big guy? Same deal as last time?” He takes Francis’ glare in stride, not wavering. “Serious. You can tie me up and everything again, I’m down with that. Might need a Med-X afterwards, but you know, that’s just how it is with mutants. And that’s cool, I’ve got plenty of that in stock. Maybe I could even take some Buffout too, make it so I can last longer-”

“Fine,” Francis growls. There’s a reason he had gagged Leonard last time, and he’s seriously considering doing it again. He puts his elbow on the table. “Same terms.” He grabs Leonard’s hand, both of them placing their other hands flat on the table. A fair fight. “Three, two one, and go.”

This time, Leonard at least pretends like he’s trying. He grunts and groans, and it’s distracting enough that Francis almost wavers, but he draws from his unlimited well of mutant strength and slams Leonard’s hand against the table, careful not to be too rough.

“Oh no, you got me again-” Leonard squeaks as Francis grabs him and slings him over his broad shoulder. “Wait, my bag- okay, thanks.” He experimentally kicks Francis’ chest. The mutant doesn’t even feel it. But that’s fine, because that wasn’t Leonard’s intention. Rather, he wanted to shift his butt so it was in the corner of Francis’ vision. His seduction is going wonderfully: this is what he’s _good_ at. He wiggles some more, and the arm around his waist tightens.

They have to pass the jail to get back to Francis’ quarters. Marcus looks vaguely alarmed at the sight of his companion in Francis’ company, but Leonard shoots him a thumbs-up and a grin and he relaxes, though there’s still a frown on his disfigured face.

“So I was thinking this time, Francie, maybe I could do a little work for you first, get you going, because I know we went a couple rounds last time, but I don’t know if I can do that again, at least not for so long, not when you’re so big-”

“Shut up,” Francis snarls, tightening his arm around his waist. They’re almost to his house, and he’s getting impatient, walking faster and faster until he’s almost jogging.

“See, that’s what I was thinking, you could _make me_ , give me something good to use my mouth for, better than chattering away all day- ah!” He squeals, breathlessly laughing. “You into spanking, Francie? Wow, me too, we could have done that last time! Honestly, I think this deserves a sequel already, maybe I should be taking notes for the Brothers-” Another harsh slap against his other cheek, his skin jiggling in his tight jumpsuit, and he gasps, wiggling again so Francis can feel how much he’s into this, he is _so_ into this.

Finally, after what seems like hours, way too long, they get to Francis’ house. As soon as the door is closed and locked behind them, Francis throws him down on the floor.

“Take off your pants,” he commands. Leonard pouts, but Francis cuts him off. “Take them off before I tear them off. Then get on your knees.”

“Yes! I see we’re taking my suggestions now.” Leonard unzips his vault suit, tantalizingly slow, his eyes fluttering as he drags the zipper down to the bottom. Then he steps out of the fabric and kneels before Francis, who’s also taken the opportunity to relieve himself of his own clothing. “Are we not doing this on the bed? Wow, Francie, that’s _kinky_ , just right here in the hallway-”

Francis grabs a handful of his sun-bleached hair and tugs, hard enough that Leonard gets the point. The human continues to chatter as he trails a finger down Francis’ stomach and down, lower, lower, low enough that the supermutant stops caring about the incessant babble from his mouth. This is not Leonard’s first time, far from it, and, with a twist of his wrist and a gentle squeeze, he has Francis falling apart above him in a matter of seconds.

And oh, those groans. Leonard thought that _he_ was vocal, but maybe Francis should quit his job challenging strangers to arm-wrestling contests, and go audition with the Corsican Brothers. He dips his head and takes Francis into his mouth, all at once, the obscene noise drowned out by Francis’ roar of pleasure. God, he wishes he had a holotape recorder right now.

A stuttered groan and the tightening of the gnarled fingers in his hair is all the warning he needs. Leonard abruptly pulls back and does a cool trick he learned. He’s always been good at tricks, always been good with his hands, whether using them to pick pockets or other, more pleasurable, activities. He squeezes the base of Francis’ length tightly with his index finger and thumb. “What?” He innocently asks, licking his lips, the salty-sweet taste lingering on his lips. His wide hazel eyes meet Francis’ enraged ones.

“ _Leonard_ ,” he growls.

“Yep,” he pops the syllable, “that’s my name. You need something?”

“No, but I think _you_ need something.” Francis sits and tugs Leonard forward until he’s laying across the mutant’s lap, bare ass in the air, Francis’ erection poking _very_ hard into his hip. “You need some punishment. Tell me to stop if it’s too much: I don’t want to break your fragile human body before we’ve even started.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, I’m pretty vocal-” His breath leaves him in a gasp. Francis doesn’t start slow, or gentle, and that’s just the way he likes it. He opens his mouth to speak again, but a whining groan comes out instead. He squirms, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the hardwood floor. “Francis, _Francis-”_

The supermutant takes his wrist and wrenches it behind his back. Leonard gets the picture and crosses his wrists so Francis can take both of them in one hand, pinning his slim hands in the dip of his back. “You want me to stop?”

“Did I fucking _say_ stop?” Leonard retorts, whimpering when Francis runs his rough hand over his reddened skin after a particularly hard hit. “If I say stop, stop. Otherwise, you know how my mouth runs. You might have to pull out that ball gag again- ah!” He screams like a porn star, which accurately reflects his part-time job, when he’s not off fixing air purifiers and finding lost dogs.

The loud smacks of skin on skin blur into one another, gentle teasing strokes driving him further up the wall until he’s twitching in anticipation of each slap, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

“Francis, please,” he squirms, pressing his ass into Francis’ hand, trying to wiggle into a position where he can get some friction, anything besides the stinging burn of his skin. “I want you inside me again,” he gasps, “touch me or fuck me, do something, Francie, _please_.”

His “punishment” stops and Francis flips him over. “Well, if you insist. I think you’ve learned your lesson. But we’re going to need some extra supplies for that.” He scoops Leonard up and walks to the bedroom, tossing him down on the bed and rummaging underneath for a small box.

First: a pair of small handcuffs, snapped into place around Leonard’s wrists.

Second: a blindfold. Leonard grins and lets Francis tie it around his eyes.

Lastly: the cap of a bottle popping off, the sound of something liquid leaking out of the bottle.

Then there’s a hand, gnarled and rough and _just right_ , stroking him and Leonard jumps in surprise, his senses heightened by the blindfold. His hips jerk up before another hand pushes him back down on the bed, easily lifting one of his legs and spreading them apart.

A slick finger trails down and teases him, dipping in just the pad before slipping out again. There’s a soft chuckle from Francis, then the thick finger slides fully in to the knuckle. Leonard arches up, as if it could go any deeper than all the way in. But he doesn’t have to wait much longer for more stimulation, because there’s another slippery finger joining the first, spreading him even further apart. And just one of Francis’ fingers is the same size as two of his own, and when they brush against his nerve endings, it’s so much, it’s _so_ good. He’s babbling again, praise and dirty talk, his mouth running faster than his floaty brain can control. Maybe it’s just to try and antagonize Francis again so he’ll gag him again, because there’s nothing Leonard likes more than a ball in his mouth. Francis twists his fingers when he says that, snarling something that Leonard makes a mental note of: it’ll be a great line for his script.

After a long week of travelling across the unforgiving wasteland and doing odd jobs, mostly tiring ones, this is _exactly_ what Leonard needed to relax. His hands, restrained behind his back and pressed against the scratchy quilt, clench and unclench, his fingers twitching. His own breath sounds so loud to him, God, he sounds like a _porn star_. He giggles, a laugh that turns into a squeal when Francis smacks his thigh.

A third finger, then Francis pulls all of them out, lifting Leonard up so the smaller man is straddling him. And Leonard _loves_ being manhandled like this, because Francis is so strong and while Leonard can be strong when he wants to be, sometimes he just likes for someone else to take the lead.

Francis’ hands are on his shoulders, pushing him down slowly until something thick presses against him. They both groan, Francis sounding more desperate than Leonard.

And it’s slow, so slow, so careful, even with how much preparation they’ve taken. But finally, eventually, after minutes of slow shifting, Leonard heaves a shaky gasp, his head thrown back. He moves an inch up, then back down again.

“Good?” Francis grumbles. He flicks Leonard’s left nipple and he jumps, eliciting a whine as it drives Francis deeper into him.

“Very good. I just-move, need to _move_ ,” he starts bouncing, letting himself relax. But, God, it’s so _much_ , it’s so _big_. But Leonard’s nothing if not ambitious. He builds up a steady rhythm, the smack-smack of their skin, such a raw sound, making him hyper-aware of every sensation. But it’s not enough, ugh, it’s just not fast enough, deep enough.

Then Francis grunts and matches his weak bouncing with his own strong thrusts, one hand on Leonard’s hip keeping him in place, his other stroking him, slow, teasing, as revenge for earlier.

This is too fast for him to breathe, and it’s wonderful. He’s caught up in an endless string of gasps and whimpers, heat pooling in his belly and sparks skittering up and down his body. He can’t move anymore besides the curl of his toes, trapped between Francis’ rough hand and his even harder thrusting.

He falls back against the bedspread, and this new position takes his breath away all over again, every thrust punching against the right spot, filling him up so much it almost hurts, but instead it makes him scream in pleasure, his back arching even more and his legs spreading as much as they can, his thighs shaking and Francis’ hand tight and fast around him, and him tight and hot around Francis, clenching and hearing the mutant reach his climax too with a guttural sound that makes him _really_ wish he had that recorder.

Leonard’s left gasping for breath, laying limply with the rough quilt under his sensitive skin. Francis pulls out of him and that almost makes him hard again. He’s flipped over, the blindfold and handcuffs removed and tossed to the side.

“You’re really something else,” Francis says, his voice rougher than normal. He presses Leonard’s shoulders down then starts to massage them, his hands still slick, giving him a heavy massage that makes him sink into the bed with a satisfied sigh. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a human like you.”

“And you never will,” Leonard mumbles. He yawns. “One of a kind, Francie.” His eyelids are heavy. Gravity and exhaustion pulls them down. “No one else in the world like me…”

And then he’s asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Featuring a Chosen One that I don't really talk about much (because I love Carla too much): Leonard. Porn Star, Neutral-Good Karma, total shithead. What's funny is that with his stats, I think he could actually beat Francis at arm-wrestling, he just chooses not to. His specialty is sneak and medium to long-range small guns. He has decent Charisma but a terrible Speech skill, so he just convinces people other ways...if you know what I mean.


End file.
